


Direct Correlation

by ActiveAggression



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Background cheating, Bastardised Statistics, Even more oblivious scott, M/M, Masturbation talk, Oblivious Liam, With a lil' feelings sprinkled in, mostly just crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActiveAggression/pseuds/ActiveAggression
Summary: “It’s statistically relevant,” Liam finds himself saying - and what the fuck is he doing? - “like, if you have Brett’s hoodie, you jerk off more. There’s a correlation. And so… when you jerk off more… there’s like a higher probability of happening to do so in Brett’s hoodie.”





	Direct Correlation

Liam’s first game against Devonford prep goes about as well as he’d expected. His old teammates sneer and spit at him off the field, and on the field they throw their entire effort into trying to injure him. 

He doesn’t even think they’re paying attention to the game itself. Seniors tackle him and entire hordes of overgrown boys take him down again and again. If he wasn’t a werewolf, he figures he’d probably be dead, but instead he just gets back up over and over. No matter how hard they try, they can’t actually hurt him. 

Of course, that’s when Brett runs into him and Liam flies back ten metres. He feels the breath leave him and hears the distinct crack of bones. Scott’s head shoots up across the field. It takes everything in him not to move his hand down to his leg, which he’s absolutely sure is broken - and maybe shattered… just a bit. He can’t touch it, he knows. He can’t act like it’s even hurt, because soon it won't be. 

Scott’s running over with Stiles, a worried edge to his brow and his helmet getting crushed in his grip. Liam hears the thick padding groaning and waves them off.

“I’m fine,” he calls, hears Scott release some pressure on his helmet and suddenly Brett appears above him. He kneels down, traces his fingers along Liam’s leg.

“Where’s it broken?” he asks, eyes wide and worried and Liam realises he hadn’t meant to hit him so hard. 

“You are  _ way _ too close,” Liam stutters, blaming the adrenalin for his pounding heart and the odd tingling up the length of his leg. 

“Where is it broken?” Brett insists through clenched teeth. It sounds more like he should (and wants to) be asking, ‘ _ why do you always have to be so difficult? _ ’ 

“It’s not,” Liam argues, pulling his leg away from the probing fingers but Brett doesn’t give up, moving with him.

“It broke,” he mutters, “I heard it break. Don’t tell me it didn’t.”

“I’m fine,” Liam says, getting back to his feet. “See?” He tries his best to stay standing, even though his leg’s healing still and it twinges where he’s allowing weight on it. 

Brett stares at him, back down to his leg and his brow creases like he simply can’t understand. Liam doesn’t care about what Brett understands though. 

Liam’s benched for the rest of the game, just in case, but they win anyway. 

Stiles cheers and climbs an unsuspecting Danny, who’s surprisingly receptive. Scott grins heartwarmingly around the team as if to say, ‘ _ yeah, fuck that other team… but like, gently, cause we don’t want to hurt their feelings _ ,’ until his gaze gets to Isaac and the grin becomes something else entirely which Liam can only assume is love. And then they’re kissing on the field… which is both sweet and disgusting. 

Liam’s so busy watching the pack, he doesn’t notice Brett watching him.    
  


Liam’s in the showers when he hears the door open. He’d thought everyone had left already. 

‘ _ They have _ ,’ he realises slowly as he hears footsteps approaching, not leaving. He turns, expecting maybe Scott. Except he knows immediately it’s not. He can’t smell Scott. He can’t smell pack at all. 

‘ _ Oh god _ ,’ he thinks, ‘ _ I’m gonna have to fight naked. _ ’

He’s moments away from fight stance, but it’s Brett that rounds the dividing wall. He’s looking at Liam strangely - like he has no idea who Liam is. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Liam asks, trying his best to be intimidating while naked.

“I swear your leg broke,” Brett answers, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine,” Liam growls, “not a scratch. Now fuck off.” 

“That too is something I find interesting,” Brett says and rather than backing off he keeps walking closer and closer. Liam feels too exposed and rather suddenly, too hot. He’s sweating as the water hits him and absently reaches back to turn it to a lower temperature. Somehow he manages to turn it off entirely, but can’t quite get his numb fingers to move again. 

“Everyone was out there to hurt you,” Brett continues, “and you’re unscathed.” He reaches Liam and his fingers are cool against Liam’s skin as they trace his bare arm. “Not even a bruise.” 

Brett’s eyes flash gold for only a second and normally Liam would think he was hallucinating, but he’s not normal anymore and knows his eyes will do the same thing with absolutely no provocation. 

“I’m lucky,” Liam snaps, ridiculously aware that Brett’s fingers are still on his arm. 

“You smell different,” Brett accuses. 

Liam yanks his arm free then, turning back around. “Ever consider that maybe you’re crazy,” he snarls, and when he turns back around Brett’s gone.    
  


Liam starts to have dreams about showers and golden eyes and, most disturbingly, Brett naked. Even more disturbingly, Liam finds the idea pretty excellent and has managed to break his previous record for amount of orgasms in a single day. 

They’re doing statistics in class and Liam reckons if he handed out a shirtless picture of Brett to everyone at the school, there would be a fucking huge positive relationship between amount of shirtless Brett pictures owned and amount of masturbation per day… 

There wouldn’t be an ‘association’ between the variables, there would be a direct causational link. Shirtless Brett pictures = more masturbation. Liam tries plotting a chart of it, but with only himself as data it goes nowhere… which is likely for the best. 

It only makes sense that when Devonford Prep comes back for another game, Liam sneaks into the away team’s locker room and steals the soft blue hoodie from Brett’s bag. 

This leads to another statistical journey, where he discovers the amount of Brett’s hoodies owned has a much larger positive relationship with amount of masturbation than the pictures had. He thinks it’s because the hoodie smells like Brett… and Brett smells like something that should be jerked off to. 

 

Liam only realises what a mess he is when he arrives at school and realises he’s still wearing it. 

“New hoodie?” Mason asks and Liam knows he  _ should _ take the thing off but he doesn’t want to. 

This turns out to be a mistake.

Malia sniffs him out almost immediately, crowding him in against a corner where lockers meet wall. “Whose sweater is that?” she demands, because Malia doesn’t know how to ask - only how to demand.

“What?” he manages, pulling at the navy fabric. He’s had it for a couple of weeks and it still smells a little like Brett but he’d been hoping it had faded enough that no one would notice. He’d been wearing it enough he’d thought it could only possibly smell like him now. “It’s mine.” 

“Why are you lying?” 

“I’m not.” 

“It’s too big for you,” Malia challenges. 

“I like loose clothing,” Liam justifies, though he doesn’t.

Malia raises an eyebrow, “no you don’t. And it doesn’t smell like you.”

“Yes it does.” 

“It does,” she admits, “but not like it would if it were yours.” 

“Second-hand?” Liam tries but it sounds like a question even to him. 

Malia crowds even closer and presses her face forward to smell him. People are looking and Liam smiles at them like it doesn’t look weird. He half expects Stiles to come round the corner and insist he’s up to something, because that seems like how his life is going at the moment. 

“It doesn’t smell like you. But it does smell familiar.” 

Liam shrugs his way out from her presence. “I don’t know what you're talking about,” he spits, glaring. He knows it’s a defense mechanism. He remembers the shrink reminding him of it every time he’d gotten snappy with her. 

“Is it Derek’s?” She asks, a little crease forming between her brows. “It’s not,” she realises. “And it’s not your little friend’s.” 

“It’s mine,” he insists, stalking away.

“No it’s not,” she calls after him and he pretends not to hear. 

Stiles tries to corner him later that day, between maths and chem. “Some of the guys said you were trying something with Malia,” he says, attempting to sound far more imposing than he actually is. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and is actually using his height advantage quite well - not that Liam will ever admit that, and not that Stiles could ever be actually intimidating.

“Who even are the guys?” Liam questions. 

Stiles immediately falters and drops a few centimetres. “You know… the guys?” 

“I’m not into Malia.” 

“You’re sure about that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“She’s very attractive. Realistically you should be into her… just not  _ into  _ her,” Stiles continues, “you sure you aren’t?” 

“Why are you trying to convince me to be?” 

Stiles flaps his arms and his mouth falls open in that silly way he manages, “I’m not. I’m not. Just making sure you aren’t.” 

Liam sighs because if only he were. Life would be easier and maybe then he wouldn’t have stolen Brett’s hoodie. Maybe if he were, he wouldn’t be thinking about that one moment over and over again, in the shower. 

Brett moments in shower = more masturbation, and awful confusing feelings that Liam never asked for and doesn’t want. 

But he does want Brett. God damn it. 

 

Within a week of the first time he wore it to school, Liam’s taken to wearing the hoodie everywhere. He almost never takes it off and it’s been smelling less and less like Brett and more and more like desperate, horny teenage boy. Liam isn’t proud.    
  


Scott comes up to him one day in the hallway with a weird crease between his brows and an obvious lack of Isaac. If Liam had to guess, he would say the two things are related. 

“Liam, hey,” Scott greets and Liam just knows this conversation is about to loop back around to the hoodie. 

“It’s mine,” he mutters before Scott can bring it up, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Scott furrows his brow and looks even more confused than usual. “What is?” 

Liam unfolds his arms and realises, not for the first time, Scott is about as oblivious as it gets. “Nothing,” he responds, quicker than he should and adds, “where’s Isaac,” to distract Scott. 

Scott perks up a little but deflates again almost immediately. “He’s not in school today,” he admits, like it’s the single worst thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m not sure, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. We have a pack meeting tonight.” 

“At Derek’s?” 

“Yeah. Do you need a ride there.” 

Liam shrugs, “I can get there myself,” he decides, because he wants some time to break down over his feelings after school.    
  


He’s slouched on the couch at Derek’s, feeling sorry for himself and completely ignoring the pack meeting, when Scott chimes in happily with, “and this is Brett.” 

Liam looks up, startled to find Brett standing just outside the little wolf huddle, staring at him. Isaac’s standing with him, sort of, and Liam just knows that’s where Isaac must have disappeared off to today. 

“Yeah,” Liam snaps, glaring at Brett, “I’m a werewolf too. Get over it.” 

“It’s not tha- why do you have my hoodie?” 

Liam notes Malia turning to look at Brett, at about the same moment the words process in his mind. 

“I- uh,” Liam mumbles, “this is mine.” 

“No it’s not,” Malia accuses annoyingly, “you stole his hoodie?”

“No I-” 

“The mystery hoodie is Brett’s?” Stiles asks loudly and suddenly all the attention is on them, “we’ve been trying to figure that one out for a week.” 

“It’s not Brett’s. It’s mine,” Liam insists and is quite proud of how he keeps the hysterics out of his voice. 

“Did you know...” Peter drawls from the corner where he’s been leaning ominously for the past twenty minutes. 

(“How long has he been there?” Scott hisses vaguely to someone but Liam is already too busy looking from Brett to Peter and doesn’t bother checking who it could be.) 

“As werewolves, we can actually hear when someone is lying,” Peter finishes, glaring at Isaac who’s finishing up some kind of explanation about Peter being creepy. Isaac stops talking but doesn’t glare back. Instead he cocks out a hip and does his patented ‘I’m pissed but I’m still sassy’ look which consists of a raised eyebrow and looks more like he wants to fuck someone hard over a sink than be mad at them. 

Brett seems to have never experienced the look before and his long stride falters. It’s at this point that Liam realises Brett’s been approaching him and he extracts himself from the couch. 

“It’s mine,” Liam lies, “I’m not lying. Anyway, I don’t think I’ve seen Brett wear a hoodie once in his entire life.” 

“Every single thing you just said was a lie,” Malia notes. 

“It’s mine,” Liam tries to insist and Isaac laughs over him. 

“That thing reeked of Brett for a week,” he says, unhelpfully, “None of these idiots could figure it out” - he glances at Scott - “and honestly I’m ashamed Scott didn’t even notice. But it was so obviously Brett’s.” 

“That’s why you brought me here?” Brett questions, “over a hoodie?” He falters, “there isn’t even another pack around is there?” 

Isaac is unrepentant, “no.”

“It’s my hoodie,” Liam repeats quietly, mostly to himself. 

“ _ Why  _ do you have my hoodie?” Brett asks and man, that really is the question. Liam’s been trying to figure it out since he stole it. 

“It smelled like you,” Liam mumbles, face burning. 

“It’s a scent thing then?” Brett asks. Liam’s fairly certain he’s asking someone more helpful, like Derek maybe, but he also thinks the theory sounds a little too werewolf-y for what’s actually been going on. 

“No,” Derek sighs, “Liam has a crush on you and likes to jerk off in the thing.” 

Liam feels himself flush, from head to toe. “No I don’t,” he tries to deny.

“That thing smells like sex,” Derek argues, “and I can’t imagine any reason for you to mastubate solely in Brett’s hoodie other than because it’s Brett’s hoodie.” 

Liam chances a look up, hoping beyond hope that Brett was some kind of figment of his imagination and isn’t actually there. But he is, and he looks dumbstruck. 

“I uh-” 

“It’s statistically relevant,” Liam finds himself saying - and what the fuck is he doing? - “like, if you have Brett’s hoodie, you jerk off more. There’s a correlation. And so… when you jerk off more… there’s like a higher probability of happening to do so in Brett’s hoodie.” 

He realises distantly that everyone is staring at him like he’s mad but doesn’t really care over the sheer embarrassment making his ears ring and heart pound. 

“I’m fairly certain nothing you just said was statistically relevant,” Isaac says, the first to voice what all of them are thinking. 

“I think that part, in like… in the middle of the mess you just spouted, about jerking off more when you have Brett’s hoodie… I think that part only applies to you,” Stiles adds, “you know, in case you thought it was the same for other people.” He says it like it’s entirely ridiculous for Liam to be thinking such a thing, but also like he’s certain that is exactly what Liam’s been thinking. 

Liam flushes. To a deluded extent, it is what he’s been thinking. He can’t imagine someone having access to Brett’s hoodie and not subsequently jerking off more. But maybe other people have better self-control. 

“I don’t… think that,” he mutters in the most unconvincing tone he’s ever heard himself make. 

“Why would having my hoodie make people jerk off?” Brett asks. 

He sounds genuinely confused, which is ridiculous because, “you’re hot.” Brett gapes at Liam and Liam gapes back, fairly certain he hadn’t meant to say the words aloud and when did his body start betraying him like this? “I mean… uh…” 

There’s a loud thud from across the room which Liam thinks is Derek hitting his face against the wall in frustration but he doesn’t stop looking at Brett to check. 

“You think I’m hot?” Brett asks, like he doesn’t totally already know - the handsome bastard. 

“Everyone thinks you’re hot,” Liam brushes off. 

Stiles makes a strange sound. “Uh, no actually. We don’t. That’s just you, remember?” 

He had kind of forgotten about that. It just seems so ridiculous that people with eyes wouldn’t want to jerk off to Brett’s bone structure. Almost automatically, Liam denies what is being said, “Uh no… I don’t think that. That would be weird. Wow it’s hot in here.” 

Someone sighs. Liam can’t tell who because he’s staring at the floor now, embarrassment flushing his cheeks pink. 

“We already established you think Brett’s hot,” Stiles tells him, which yeah they did. But his fight or flight instincts keep taking him up the path of ‘DENY EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!’. 

“Did we?” Liam manages, voice an octave higher than usual, “I don’t remember that…” 

There’s a collective round of exasperated groans and when Liam looks up to better make his case, he finds himself looking straight into Brett’s eyes. The beta has approached somehow in the middle of Liam’s embarrassment and is now mere centimetres away, leant forward to better match Liam’s eye level. 

Liam’s can’t help staring. His eyes flit from Brett’s eyes to Brett’s cheekbones to his perfect jaw to his lips and there they stay. He literally cannot force himself to look away. 

Brett leans back. “Can I have my hoodie back?”

“No,” Liam says immediately, “It’s not yours anyway. It’s - yeah, alright.” He slips it over his head, getting his t-shirt caught up in it and not caring in the slightest. Nothing can make the situation more embarrassing than it already is. 

Brett takes his hoodie, and subsequently Liam’s shirt. “Thanks,” he mutters, nose wrinkled as he looks down at the material. 

Liam closes his eyes and wishes for death. Brett can probably smell Liam’s everything on that, saliva, come, sweat,  _ everything.  _ Now that he thinks about it, every werewolf in the room can probably smell it. Have been smelling it for weeks. 

Obviously something about Brett’s hoodie has been clouding his judgement.  Liam peers at it suspiciously. It could be a spiked… hoodie. Probably not. More likely, Liam’s just been thinking with his dick over his rationality. 

“Do you need a carry bag?” Isaac asks and there’s a rustling like he’s actually got one. 

“Or a hazardous waste containment system,” Peter adds snarkily. Liam opens his eyes to glare at him. 

Brett, still holding the hoodie, takes a step back. “Uh… no,” he says, “no thanks. I - I think I’m fine.” He gives Liam an indecipherable look, hands him his t-shirt and makes his way to the door. 

He leaves. Then everyone leaves. And Liam is left alone. Almost alone. 

Stiles is still there, watching him. “We all do stupid stuff,” he mumbles, somewhat supportively. 

“Can I get a ride home?” Liam asks instead of saying what he wants to say.  _ Do we? Cause it feels like everyone else has their shit sorted and here I am, humiliated and exposed, all because I stole a hoodie to be closer to someone that couldn’t give one shit about me. And I can’t even be angry about it, because I’m in the wrong here. When have you ever done something this stupid, this bad? _

Stiles’ expression drops from supportive into guilty into blank. “I’m - uh - I’m not leaving,” he mutters. 

“You’re staying here?” Liam wonders, casting his eyes around Derek’s barren apartment. 

“Yeah,” Stiles says, bites his lip, fidgets. His eyes go to the door Derek disappeared through and he looks on edge, guilty.

Oh. 

“I think I should go,” Liam says quietly. 

“You should,” Derek agrees, appearing through the doorway, his voice leaving little room for argument. 

Liam bites his lip, pulls on his shirt and goes. He makes it to the carpark and sits there, on the cement. It’s just in range of Derek’s to hear him and Stiles. Liam listens to it all. 

They talk for awhile, about nothing. Talk for a longer while about everything; Peter, mountain ash, Scott, Boyd and Erica, the nogitsune, Allison, death death death, guilt. Stiles starts crying, Liam can hear it. Liam can  _ feel  _ it. 

Stiles says, “I’ve caused so much pain,” and Derek tells him it wasn’t him, never him. 

What follows is perhaps the weirdest sex Liam could ever imagine. Maybe that’s because Liam always imagines sex a little dirty, a little rough and angry, more like a fight than anything else, and Derek and Stiles sound like they’re in love. 

“You’re not a bad person,” someone comments from behind him and Liam jumps, spinning to find Brett standing there. 

“What?”

Brett comes to sit beside him. “Maybe it’s a little stalkerish,” Brett says, shrugging, “stealing my hoodie. But it doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

“I don’t think that,” Liam mutters. 

“You do. I can tell.” 

“Whatever.” 

“It wasn’t what you should have done,” Brett continues, “cause what you should have done was ask me out. But it doesn’t mean you’re bad or anything, you just make bad decisions.” 

“Fuck off,” Liam says automatically, then, “what? I should have asked you out?” He scoffs, “like that would’ve gone well.” 

“Yes actually,” Brett says, “I would’ve said yes, we’d have gone on a date, instead of jerking off in my hoodie we could’ve had sex.” 

“You’d have said yes?” Liam says skeptically. 

“Well, after I realised you were a werewolf, yeah,” Brett admits. 

“That’s very… speciest?”

Brett shrugs, burrows his nose into the crook of his elbow where it rests on his propped up knees. “It’s safer,” he mumbles, so quietly Liam wouldn’t hear if he didn’t have super duper werewolf powers. 

Liam rolls the idea through his mind and finds he doesn’t like it. It makes him sad. “I didn’t want to be this,” he quietly admits. 

Brett shifts. “No one really understands what they’re getting into,” he offers. “Nothing really prepares you for-”

“It was an accident,” Liam interrupts, because he knows Brett thinks Liam wanted this to some degree. And he didn’t. “Scott - I - I would’ve died otherwise.” 

“Oh,” Brett says, “you were sick?”

Liam laughs and somehow it sounds messed up, even in his own ears. “I was falling off the side of a building. There wasn’t really time to explain it to me.”

“So when you say you didn’t want to be this…” Brett trails off. 

“I didn’t know,” Liam admits. He can hear Derek moving around now, creaking through his shitty apartment. “That I could be this, I had no idea. But, I don’t think I would’ve wanted it.” 

Brett’s watching him. Liam can’t see it, but he can tell. “You don’t want it now,” Brett observes. 

“Every corner we turn there’s someone trying to kill us. Why would I want that?”

“It’s not all bad.”

“Yeah,” Liam scoffs, “I’m better at lacrosse now. Terrific.”

“I couldn’t imagine being human,” Brett says, “just - losing that connection with my pack? What we share goes beyond friends or family.”

Liam hears a thump, Stiles bumping blearily into Derek’s table. He’s dragging something with him, possibly a blanket, and from the sounds of it he’s heading out to the couch where Derek’s waiting. They might cuddle. They might fight. Liam has no idea, but he feels mad. Mad at them for not telling anyone, at Stiles for dragging Malia along. 

Liam knows Malia doesn’t really do feelings. He knows she wouldn’t be able to help Stiles, but hiding it like this doesn’t feel like something a pack should do. 

“I’m not sure I feel it like you do,” he admits. 

Brett laughs. “I don’t imagine so. Your pack has… a lot to work out.” 

Liam shrugs. “Somehow they’re doing better than me.”

Brett rolls his eyes. “Come on. All you did was steal a hoodie... and jerk off a ridiculous amount.”

“I still blame you for that.” 

“I don’t mind,” Brett admits, smiling all over his ridiculously handsome face, “but you still haven’t asked me out. You getting to that anytime soon?”

“I - oh-” Liam pauses, turns to give Brett a skeptical look, “you want that?” 

Distantly he hears Derek groan, say something like ‘of course he fucking wants that, Christ.’ Liam mostly disregards it, up until he notices Brett’s head tilted ever so slightly and a pinkness across the bridge of his nose. Werewolf, right. 

“Shut up Derek,” he calls, mostly to see Brett laugh. Quieter, he leans in a little and adds, “You - uh - wanna go out sometime?” 

Brett chuckles. “Yeah okay.” 

Liam pauses. He thinks he’d really quite like to kiss Brett. He bites his lip. It would be so so awkward if Brett really wouldn’t like to kiss him though, and Liam isn’t sure he brushed his teeth this morning - he’s been a mess,  _ it’s not his fault!  _

“I… uh…” Liam starts, then chickens out. 

“You want to kiss me,” Brett suggests.

“Yeah,” Liam breathes, “how’d you know?”

“You aren’t exactly subtle,” Brett answers, “also, werewolf?” His eyes flash gold and Liam sucks in a breath, realising just how close they’ve gotten. He’s never been quite this close to someone’s face when they’ve done what Stiles affectionately calls ‘the eye thing’. The shower incident wasn’t even this close. 

“I-” Liam starts, shifting uncomfortably. 

“You’re hard,” Brett says, matter of fact

“I’m not,” Liam splutters. He totally is. 

“When is this werewolf thing gonna get through to you?” Brett wonders. He’s using a tone disturbingly like Isaac’s whenever he has to explain something to Scott. It’s fond, but bordering on  _ you’re a complete idiot and I have no idea why I like you so much. _

“You - you can tell when I’m hard,” Liam surmises, thinking back to all the times he’s been casually turned on around the pack -  _ he’s fifteen, leave him alone. _ “God, that’s embarrassing.” 

“You aren’t very good at this.” 

“I know,” Liam hisses. Of course he knows. He’s talking about embarrassing boners instead of kissing the fuck out of the hottest guy in existence. It’s ridiculous. 

“Here,” Brett sighs, “just-” He leans a little more towards Liam and then, suddenly, his hands are everywhere. One curls possessively over Liam’s knee and Liam’s not small, but Brett’s hands are huge and so warm through his jeans. The other hand curls around his neck, and Brett’s thumb brushes super softly against his jaw then moves inwards to press against his mouth. 

“Holy fuck,” Liam manages because, once again, he’s  _ fifteen  _ and no one has ever touched him like this. With the words Brett dips the edge of his thumb just slightly into Liam’s mouth, drawing his bottom lip down ever so slightly. 

Liam’s about to explode or come or  _ something,  _ but then Brett replaces his thumb with his mouth and Liam really and truly believes he’s dead. He stays there, stock still, until Brett leans back and goes, “fucking hell Liam, just kiss me back.” 

Liam nods, sort of. Not really. He makes an aborted head movement and his fingers move to grab Brett’s clothing without any permission. “I can-” Liam licks his lips, can’t help but stare at Brett’s mouth, “I can do that.” 

He can’t really, as it turns out. Partially because he has no idea what he’s doing, but he tries so... whatever. Most of the issue is Derek who appears at the entrance of his building, shirtless, and yells at them to make out somewhere else. 

When Brett flips him off and brings his other hand up Liam’s shirt, Derek goes back inside and rouses Stiles for an even louder round of sex. Needless to say that ruins the mood nicely. 

 

“I - uh - I’ll see you,” Liam manages when Brett drops him home. Brett throws something at him in answer and pulls away from the curb before Liam can even wrangle it off his face in order to look at it. 

It’s a shirt. It smells a little musty, like it’s the resident spare shirt, but underneath that it smells like Brett and warmth and not yet like the immense amount of come it soon will. Attached to it is a little green post-it note with writing scrawled over the top and a phone number at the bottom. 

_ It’s just a temporary fix. I’ll give you a better one next time. I would give you the hoodie back, but that thing smells entirely like come, JFC! I can’t guarantee the next thing I give you wont smell like come, in fact I would guarantee the opposite, but maybe not so much that even the humans can smell it. By the way, just in case you somehow don’t know, I LIKE YOU.  _

**Author's Note:**

> It's not really underage considering they do NOTHING, but there is a lot of masturbation talk... so much... so I thought i'd be safe and tag it. 
> 
> Also, obviously I do not know much about statistics. But at the time of conception it was what we were learning about - last year (I'm a mess). 
> 
> Lemme know if there are any constructive comments, or non constructive. Just talk to me. I'm lonely. And kudos and all that. Bam! Activeagression out.


End file.
